


la douleur exquise

by kaileidohscope



Series: Onsra [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Depression, Lots of Music Interludes, M/M, Melodrama, Mentions of Suicide, Mild Language, Past Infidelity, Self-Harm, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6636835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaileidohscope/pseuds/kaileidohscope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyungsoo tells himself he's happy. Tells himself that this is what he wanted; that Chaneol's rough yet nimble fingers fit perfectly between his own - better than Jongin's did.</p><p>But not wanting something is different than being told you can't have it, and unfortunately, Kyungsoo learns this the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	la douleur exquise

**Author's Note:**

> **[** la douleur exquise (n. french) : the heart-wrnching pain of wanting someone unattainable **]**
> 
> "kyungsoo cheats on jongin and regrets it at jongin's wedding" - requested by _anonymous_ on Tumblr
> 
> This is gonna be vERY SAD and kind of long and im sorry 
> 
> Originally posted on AFF July 7th, 2015

Kyungsoo tells himself he’s happy. Tells himself that this is what he wanted; that Chanyeol’s rough yet nimble fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of his own – and in a way, they do. Chanyeol’s hands are much bigger, and can wrap fully around Kyungsoo’s smaller ones, keeping them warm against the brittle winter air as they strolled around shopping centers and twittered over cute little Christmas knick-knacks in store windows.

Jongin had never been one for hand-holding anyways – he’d rather go to a food stand and buy some hot chocolate because _“not only will it keep both your hands warm, but it’ll also keep your tummy warm, too”_ Kyungsoo remembers with a fond sort of hollowness in the depths of his memories.

“Kyungie, look, it’s you!” Kyungsoo looks over as Chanyeol points at a Build-A-Bear Work Shop across the street, pulling him over in childish excitement before tapping the glass where a generously sized penguin plush is propped up on display within the store, alongside multiple Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeers and Frosty the Snowmen.

“It’s even got your rosy cheeks.” Chanyeol points out with a grin, kneeling down so he’s eye-to-eye with the little Arctic plush and coos over the red fabric circles sewn under each of its beady eyes.

Kyungsoo gives some sort of cough, slash sigh, slash laugh in response, rolling his eyes and tugging on the taller’s arm from where their hands are still locked together. “Oh ha-ha, you’re so funny, please, I’m gonna pee myself.” Tone rich with amicable sarcasm, he shakes his head and more dramatically rolls his eyes despite the crooked smile cocking a corner of his lips.

“Oh, well I am quite the comedian, if I do say so myself.” Chanyeol thrums in response, feet falling heavy against the pavement as Kyungsoo drags him through a few steps.

“You’re so full of yourself.” Kyungsoo snickers in a low exasperated humor, but let’s himself be pulled close when Chanyeol does so, said giant laughing jauntily in response as he cups his palm around Kyungsoo’s jaw and leans in for a kiss, muttering a cheeky “You love it.”

Jongin had never been one for public kissing, either. He’d much rather whisk Kyungsoo back to his house, hidden behind closed doors, and take his lips with his own in a steady pace, with a smoldering sweetness that would have Kyungsoo’s heart fluttering because _“being out in the open is risky, a little kid could see us, or we could get in trouble”_ Kyungsoo remembers.

But that had been something he hated back then, because there was no rush of being caught, no spur the moment kisses like this one. No fleeting pecks or giggling smooches.

Kyungsoo draws back from the kiss and looks around them, telling himself that the shiver running up his spin is because it’s cold out, and not because he’d just kissed a man in front of a children’s shop – an act that would have Jongin cherry crimson.

He also tells himself that the plummeting guilt within his stomach is in fact not guilt, and just one too many donuts from the coffee shop he and Chanyeol had stopped by on the way home.

Because all those years ago, back in high school, when Jongin had uttered those three little words for the first time, and Kyungsoo had so tentatively whispered them back – the rush of being caught, the fleeting pecks, the giggling smooches – those were all he wanted. And he got them, from the very same pair of lips that are leaving scorching kisses down the length of his abdomen, dragging over his navel and continuing south. His chest heaves into a moan, head thrown back into the pillows with a particular name threatening to spill loose, but Kyungsoo catches his mistake before it happens, and he mushes the faulty syllable into the right one.

Because all those years ago, back in high school, when Jongin would tell him how cute he was and press tender kisses to his cheeks when they met up between classes, Chanyeol had already left hickeys underneath the cotton of his polo shirt and forced consensual messy kisses to his lips.

Because while Jongin was always the first to have him those mornings, Chanyeol would always get the sloppy seconds at night.

Because it was the rush Kyungsoo had wanted. The spur the moment kisses on the bus when Jongin had a dentist appointment and couldn’t ride home with them that day. The fleeting pecks while Jongin ran off to return a book and left him and Chanyeol alone for a second too long. The giggling smooches when Jongin dozed off during their movies nights and left the bedroom up for grabs. It was the rush of being caught.

He eventually was caught. On their anniversary, of all days. When Jongin had gone over to his house to surprise him with a dinner, having played hooky from school that day to set things up with the help of Kyungsoo’s mother. What a surprise it was, when he and Chanyeol had come clambering through the front door, laughing and giggling and nosing at each other’s cheeks between locked lips and groping hands because Kyungsoo’s mother had said she was working late and wouldn’t be there when he got home from school.

But through it all, through the yelling and confusion and confrontation, through Jongin’s tears and frail trembling, he never once apologized. He wishes he had, now that he lays stark naked in the bed he shares with Chanyeol, who has long since fallen asleep while Kyungsoo is staring at the ceiling, thinking; wondering.

Remembering the way Jongin would always hold him after the few times they’d made love; nuzzling into his damp hair, tracing his soft fingertip along Kyungsoo’s skin, connecting the moles on his nape with invisible lines and whispering _“it’s almost the shape of the Big Dipper”_ with a soft chuckle and a _“you’ve got constellations, Soo”_ that would lull Kyungsoo to sleep with a fuzzy warmth in his stomach and a smile on his face – and he also notes that Chanyeol never holds him like that. Never holds him so perfectly, or at all, for that matter.

And for the first time in a while, the blankets never felt so cold, and the space of mattress between him and Chanyeol had never felt so wide.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo sits curled up on one side of the couch. A fleece blanket is draped over his legs, and a cup of steaming coffee is balanced on the arm of the sofa with his hands wrapped around the base. He takes a small sip, and tries to ignore the thought that Jongin never liked coffee as he reaches towards the remote and clicks the TV on.

The overzealous voices of a morning talk show fill the void, and somehow the noise is comforting and makes Kyungsoo’s litost a bit less noticeable. He’d just been getting into the heated conversation going on between two of the hostesses when Chanyeol walks across the living room and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and his coat off the back of a chair.

“Where’re you going?” Kyungsoo asks, a restless feeling welling up in his chest as Chanyeol adjusts his jacket and does up the buttons, hardly sparing him a glance.

“Out. ‘Meeting up with a friend.” Chanyeol prompts distractedly, moving about the kitchen for other things – swiping a pack of gum from atop the fridge and popping a piece into his mouth.

 _“Who?”_ Kyungsoo wants to ask, but doesn’t. He looks back to the TV screen, but isn’t really watching. He doesn’t move his gaze when Chanyeol strides over to him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his temple.

At the last second, when Chanyeol is pulling back, Kyungsoo tilts his head in ask for a proper kiss, but goes unnoticed as the taller stands straight and heads towards the front door.  
“I’ll be out late, so don’t wait up for me.”

Kyungsoo’s chest constricts, his throat tightens, his shoulders feel weak, but he only gives a melancholy smile that is so much easier to pull off than Kyungsoo would’ve expected. Because isn’t it ironic? Did he not have this coming? Isn’t this what it was like so many times before, back in high school? Doesn’t he know the signs, because he himself had given Jongin the same treatment?

 _“You’re fucking them, aren’t you?”_ Kyungsoo wants to say. “Have fun.” he says, instead.

 

 

 

Kyungsoo hasn’t spoken to Jongin in six years, so to find a letter addressed to him from Kim Jongin when he checks the mail a couple weeks later sends his heart spinning into somersaults. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but there’s fuzziness in his chest. Something like hope, something like wistful thinking.

Maybe Jongin wants to see him again. Maybe it’s a misprint. Maybe it’s a different ‘Kim Jongin’. Maybe it’s a letter that was supposed to be delivered years ago but got lost in the mail and he’s just now receiving it. His mind is spinning with the possibilities. He slowly pries it open, right there, in the middle of the apartment building foyer with a heavy blanket draped around him, and his hot coffee grasped in one hand.

Someone enters, sending a gust of freezing wind and snowflakes wafting through and causing the paper in his hands to fold over his fingers before he straightens it out and pulls his blanket closer.

**Dear Do Kyungsoo & Park Chanyeol,**

**_Kim Jongin & Jung Soojung_ would be honored to have your presence for their marriage on Wednesday, January 13th, 2016.  
A beautiful backyard ceremony will be held at 30 Euljiro, Junggu, Seoul.**

**We anticipate sharing this special day with you.**

 

All possibilities had swam through his mind – except this one.

He tells himself – when his coffee mug slips from his grasp and shatters messily all over the concrete floor – that the trembling in his fingers is because it’s winter and he’s barefoot, in nothing more than pajama shorts and a tee shirt with a blanket protecting him, and not because of the clench in his chest. The splinter in his brain. The sting in his lungs. The sudden tingle brimming behind his eyes.

It’s because it’s winter, he tells himself, as he goes back up to his and Chanyeol’s apartment, turns off all the lights and the TV, closes all the blinds and curtains, crawls into their double bed, shuts himself into darkness beneath the duvet and pillows, and lays there, wanting to just sleep, and never open his eye again. It’s because it’s winter.

 

 

 

Never had Kyungsoo thought, the day after his twenty-fifth birthday, that he’d be attending a wedding. Kim Jongin’s wedding.

Kim Jongin, who had owned three dogs and took them on daily walks, who had been so shy and humble the first time he’d spoken to Kyungsoo, who had hoarded pens in his pencil bag for whenever Kyungsoo forgot or lost his, who had eaten nothing but fried chicken every day during lunch, who had stolen Kyungsoo’s heart the first time he saw the younger perform on stage, who had fallen so foolishly in love with him at seventeen, who had been so innocent, who had never felt like enough to Kyungsoo.

 

Kim Jongin, the man he had broken the heart of.  
Kim Jongin, the man he was still in love with.

It’s selfish, really, the reason Kyungsoo has insisted on going to the wedding, even though Chanyeol has shown bouts of hesitance here and there – when looking at the invitation, through the passing weeks, when getting ready in the bathroom, on the drive up to Jongin’s mother’s house.

It’s selfish, that the reason Kyungsoo wants to go – is making himself go – is see Jongin again. To see his happiness. To see all that he has become since high school. To see how he’s matured. To see the woman he’s fallen in love with.

To cause himself pain. To cause himself is own, selfish pain. He wants to feel what Jongin must’ve felt, when he’d come stumbling through the door, with his lips pressed to Chanyeol’s, with his hand groping at the front of Chanyeol’s pants. Smiling, laughing, without a hint of remorse.  
He needs to feel it. He just needs to.

It’s been a while since he last stepped foot on the Kim’s property. But he still recognizes the dandelion sprouts popping up through the mostly melted snow. He can’t help but smile bitterly at them because _“Soo, did you know that dandelions symbolize the promise of faithfulness?”_ and Kyungsoo remembers sitting there, under the small Willow Tree in the front lawn with Jongin sitting beside him, plucking dandelions and blowing their seeds out into the world. And Kyungsoo remembers smiling, watching them float delicately in the breeze as Jongin had leaned over, and kissed his cheek. Kyungsoo had smiled even more, leaned in ever so carefully, and pressed his lips to Jongin’s in a chaste, shy way.  
And it had been their first kiss. And it hurts, now, as Kyungsoo remembers it all. Back, when everything was enough. Back, when Chanyeol really _was_ just a friend.

And it’s all very ironic.

 

 

 

He and Chanyeol had been greeted at the door by Jongin’s eldest brother, Junmyeon, who had smiled and welcomed them into the house with awkward greetings and withheld feelings. Kyungsoo understands the tension because _“don’t worry, Soo. Junmyeon is just overprotective, he’ll come around”_ and he’d shattered that possibility years ago.

Coming face to face with Jongin, seeing him for the first time in what feels like forever, is almost overwhelming for Kyungsoo. Because Jongin doesn’t look like the boyish adolescent he remembers him to be. His shoulders have broadened, and his jawline has sharpened. He’s taller than Kyungsoo remembers, and his once skinny arms are now shaped and toned with lean muscles.

It hits Kyungsoo like a tidal wave—the soft yearning. The ache.

Jongin smiles upon noticing them, and Kyungsoo automatically smiles because that smile had always been so contagious. And it’s the same as before. His lips curl upward, revealing brilliant white teeth. And there’s still that little dent in his chin the Kyungsoo had found—and still finds—so adorable.

“Kyungsoo; Chanyeol!”

And when he speaks, it’s so timber and brisk. So mature. So different, it has a shiver running through him. Jongin extends his arms, with no hesitance, and Kyungsoo feels the tingle behind his eyes again out of pure… relief. Happiness. Relief, because Jongin is so welcoming even after everything that transpired between them. Happiness, because, if only for a moment, he will finally be able to feel Jongin again, to hold Jongin again.

It’s brief, but Kyungsoo’s hands still curl around Jongin’s shoulders, squeezing, resting his chin against the curve of his collarbone and breathing in the scent of Jongin’s cologne. His eyes close, his brows groove, and he just wants time to stop.

Time doesn’t stop, and reality greets Kyungsoo again when Jongin withdraws from the embrace after mere moments and moves onto Chanyeol.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it.” He beams, handsomely, and steps back to assess the two with a glowing grin that even outshines Chanyeol’s.

“Hi.” Kyungsoo rasps, cheeks burning from his forced yet willful smile, and he motions towards Jongin’s tailored suit in an awkward manner. “You, look amazing.”

“As do you,” Jongin replies, ever politely. And there’s a moment where Jongin is smiling, solely at him, that same smile Kyungsoo remembers so clearly. The smile he had on when Kyungsoo had been introduced to his dogs for the first time, or the time Kyungsoo had caught him staring during one of their movie nights. That gentle, fond smile.

 _“I’ve missed you”_ Kyungsoo wants to say, but he doesn’t, because it wouldn’t be appropriate. Not with the heavy longing behind those words.

“How’ve you been?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol’s arm slips away from Kyungsoo’s waist as his eyes wander off in the direction where other guests are gathering, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s temple and muttering a “I’ll get you a drink”, which Kyungsoo nods briefly in return before turning his attention back to Jongin’s question within a single second, Chanyeol leaving the two.

“Good.” _Lair._ “Really good.” _You’ve been terrible._

“That’s good to hear, Kyungsoo. I’m glad.” Jongin’s smile is smaller, and there’s bolts of electricity where he’d harmless grazed Kyungsoo forearm in a friendly gesture. Kyungsoo only smiles, and nods his head.

“What about you? Did you ever get into SU?” He asks, but he already knows that, yes, Jongin has. Jongin is actually a dance instructor there, now. Kyungsoo had figured this out while roaming around the internet in search for a school to attend – because he’d graduated yet never gotten around to going to college.

Jongin’s expression brightens noticeably, with a new giddiness. “Oh, yeah, I did!” He confirms, “It’s a really nice school – which one did you get into? Did you ever do that SM audition thing you wanted to?”

Kyungsoo’s smile falters for a second, a pause, “Oh, um…” and Jongin seems to catch on.

“Ah…” Jongin chuckles apologetically, “I see.”

Kyungsoo gives a weak chortle in response. “Yeah. It was a silly dream, anyway.” He waves off with a melancholy rictus.

“Don’t say that. No dream is ever silly.” Jongin gazes at him, ever gently, and something within Kyungsoo trembles because _“If you want to be a dancer, you can do it, Jongin. No dream is ever silly if it’s what your heart truly wants.”_

Kyungsoo tremulously smiles, his own words ringing in his ears, and Chanyeol has returned with two tall wine glasses nestled between his fingers. Kyungsoo accepts one, tiredly smiling in gratitude before idly swirling the sparkly liquid around solely to avoid looking at Jongin.

Jongdae – Jongin’s elder brother – interjects then, and the next few hours become a blur for Kyungsoo.

A blur of wine because maybe drinking will distract him. A blur of smiling because maybe fake it ‘til you make it really works. A blur of envy because Soojung is so beautiful when she gracefully walks down the aisle. A blur nausea as loving vows are exchanged, and rings are slipped on fingers. A blur of darkness because he doesn’t want to see it.

A blur of sadness.  
A blur of regret.  
A blur of pain.  
A blur of la douleur exquise.

 

 

 

There are two cakes. One three layers high with a little bride and groom set atop proudly, taunting Kyungsoo with their love and smiling face, and another of smaller size, with little candles spelling out the words ‘Happy Birthday’.

The crowd of friends and family gather around to sing an early Happy Birthday to the newly wedded groom, while Kyungsoo stays seated at one of the tables with a grinning Chanyeol standing up and clapping along, but Jongin stops them. He motions for a microphone, which Junmyeon fumbles with before handing over.

“First of all, I really want to thank you all for doing this, I’m so thankful.” He begins, smiling as brilliant as ever. “This is the greatest birthday present I could ever receive.” He gives a fond smile to Soojung, who is stood beside him, and she smiles back, so shyly and adorable.

“Just wait ‘til tonight!” Jongdae hollers from somewhere in the back, and everyone laughs – even Jongin – but Kyungsoo is too tired to bother.

“But,” Jongin begins again, “there’s someone else I think should be up here, too.”

Kyungsoo feels something like dread melt into his stomach, and as he looks up from his piece of the three-layer cake. Jongin is looking at him, smiling, with an extended hand.

“Most of you probably remember my dear friend, Kyungsoo. His birthday was yesterday. I think it’d be a little unfair for me to just hog this when it’s not even really my birthday. So, Kyungsoo.” He waves his hand, motioning Kyungsoo to come over.

He stays planted in his seat, swallowing dryly as the crowd turns to him. He sets his utensils down, clears in throat, straightens the front of his suit, then begrudgingly makes his way over.

And Kyungsoo is so close to breaking. His smile is so close to faltering, as everyone begins singing again, and he’s stood right beside Jongin, and Jongin is smiling encouragingly at him. So close to breaking, as Jongin’s hand accidentally brushes against the back of his own. So close to breaking, as the cake is cut, and pictures are taken. So close, as Jongin cutely feeds Soojung a small bite. So close, as he sees Chanyeol slip off towards the bathroom with a short brunet man too close to his side. He’s so close to breaking, as the guests take turns walking up onto the small wooden stage set up in the middle of the yard and giving their messages to the newly married couple.

His turn comes sooner than he would’ve liked, and his hands are trembling as he steps up to the mic and adjusts it to his height. For a few moment, he just stands there, looking at Jongin sat at the table in the front, with his hand grasping Soojung’s and a smile on his face.

He wills the burn in his eyes away, takes a steady breath, and glances around the crowd. Chanyeol has returned to their table, suit a little rumpled and hair styled differently. And never had Kyungsoo wanted to slip into oblivion so bad.

“I’ve never really been good with words, or public speaking, so… I’ll just keep this short.” There’s some sort of lump in his throat, but swallowing lessens the burden of it a bit. He takes a small while, gathering his words.

“I remember, back in high school, Kim Jongin was always one to talk about love. He knew what he wanted, he knew what he deserved, and he knew what he needed. He always spoke about… You know, the kind of love you see in movies. And he told me, he wanted someone who knew him, and accepted him, and believed him in… no matter the circumstances. He wanted someone who, …he could fall in love with, multiple times, and never get tired or bored of it, because every time would more passionate than the last. Basically, Jongin just wanted someone who would love him, wholeheartedly. Completely. Faithfully. Who would never look at anyone else, the way they looked at him.” He swallows, closing his eyes as they begin to burn. “That was really all he wanted. And tonight, just seeing the way she looks at you, Jongin,” He looks at said male, smiling despite the tightness in his chest. And Jongin is looking at Soojung, tenderly.

“You’ve found her, Jongin. She’s perfect.” There’s a waver in his voice, but he covers it with a weak chuckle. “I hope, that she will love you for however long you two will live. And that you will love happily. And… I can’t express how happy I am, to know that you’ve gotten everything that you’ve wanted. I’m just… So, so happy for you. No amount of words, will ever signify how utterly relieved I am to be standing here today, seeing you love someone who can love you, truly love you. Congratulations, both of you.” He raises his wine glass, smiling one last time as everyone else follows suit. “To the bride and groom.”

And he wants to die, as he downs the rest of his wine, and takes his leave off the stage with accompaniment of brief applause. He sets his empty glass down on one of the side tables, and Jongdae goes on about the first dance as a married couple. Not more than a few moments later, the band starts up a gentle melody, and Jongin and Soojung are hoarded into a clearing with hoots and cheering, both smiling shyly as they take their positions, and begin to gently sway.

 

_How can I forget you?_  
The memories come and go…  
You’re all I’ve ever wanted…  
You’re all I’ve ever known…  
Can I be happy, living with your ghost? 

_The pictures tell a story…_  
I took them off the wall…  
It’s hard enough to get through…  
I still can feel the fall…  
Do you ever, think of me at all? 

 

Kyungsoo watches, as Soojung’s arms drape around Jongin’s neck, and he wishes they were his arms instead. And Kyungsoo watches, as an enamored smile settles on Jongin’s lips as he gazes down at her.

 

_Oh, I want you…_  
Only you…  
I want you…  
Only you... 

 

Soojung rests her head gently against Jongin’s shoulder, and Jongin leans down to press his lips against her smooth ebony hair, which curls like silk at the ends.

 

_And I can start it over…_  
And find somebody new…  
A beautiful distraction…  
Just a hand to onto…  
But if you ask me, would that love be true? 

 

And Kyungsoo can feel himself shattering, everything, within the deepest chamber of his heart, shattering, as a burn wells up in his throat, and a line of liquid threatens to brim on his lashes.

 

_No, I want you…_  
Only you…  
I want you…  
Only you… 

_I wanna taste you again…_  
Like a secret or a sin…  
Breathing out, breathing in…  
There’s no one else for me…  
But you… 

_Only you…_

 

And Kyungsoo is so tired. So, so weak, as he turns and quickly winds his way through tables and guests, heading around the side of the house and to the front, but someone grasps his arm, stopping him. He looks up in a sting of adrenaline, and it’s Chanyeol, looking at him awfully worriedly.

“Is everything alright, Kyungie?”

Kyungsoo smiles reassuringly. “Oh—No, I-I’m fine, I’m just… I don't feel good, it was probably all the cake and wine. I’m just gonna leave a little early, and go lay down.” He’s smiling, despite the tears gathering. And Chanyeol notices.

“You’re crying. Kyungsoo, y—”

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo interjects with a forced laugh, but Chanyeol can’t tell the difference. He sniffles softly, averting his eyes for a moment and looking towards the party, where Jongin is still consumed in Soojung, as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“I’m… I’m just really happy.” He looks at Chanyeol, smile as wide as he can manage. “Really. I mean… Everyone cries at weddings, right?” He chuckles softly, sniffling and wiping at his nose.

“You’re gonna be alright on your own?” Chanyeol asks, evidently hesitant. Kyungsoo nods quickly, steadying his breath, and continuing to smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, Yeol, just… Go back to the party. Have fun. I’ll probably go straight to sleep when I get home, anyway. I’m fine, honestly.” Chanyeol dithers, until Kyungsoo waves him off with more radiant smiles and promises that it’s only joy that’s forcing the liquid out of his eyes.

And Kyungsoo runs to the car, as fast his wobbly legs can manage, and backs out of the driveway. He makes it several miles down the road, with the radio turned off, and his grip on the steering wheel near deadly, until he’s forced to pull over with the tears clouding his eyes too much.

And everything hurts. He wants it all to end, to just stop. He wants to feel nothing at all. It isn’t fair.

 _"Damn it!"_ He swears, as a broken sob wrenches from him, and he hits the steering wheel in frustration. 

It is fair. Because he deserves this. He deserves every single tear. Every single debilitating pulse of torture that courses through his veins.

He wants to go back in time. He wants to change the past. He wants to cherish the innocence Jongin brought into his life, the hot chocolate, the sweet kisses on his cheeks, promise of dandelions. He wants to cherish every second, of every hour that Jongin made love to him, and held him in his arms like he was the most fragile thing in the world. He wants Jongin. All he wants… _is Jongin._ But he can’t have Jongin. Because he took it all for granted. He was greedy. And he will never deserve Jongin. That harsh truth, is about the most agonizing thought that repeats itself _over and over again_ in his head.

Because he will never… _never_ deserve Jongin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are greatly appreciated. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
> 
> Part two is still in construction. :)


End file.
